


Wisdom and Folly

by LadyBrooke



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25470427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke
Summary: Maeglin escaped Morgoth and found Celebrimbor and Finduilas, who had wandered away from the wreckage of Nargothrond.Somehow he had also found himself part of their relationship and sending a letter to Gondolin by bird.
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Finduilas Faelivrin/Maeglin | Lómion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 55
Collections: Little Black Dress Exchange 2020





	Wisdom and Folly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WolffyLuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolffyLuna/gifts).



Maeglin wondered as he watched the bird leave if his uncle would listen. Perhaps Turgon would, the city would be saved, and they would meet again one day. But Turgon likely would not. It was a flaw of their line, after all, that they all thought they knew best. Maeglin had already fallen to that.

“You sent a bird to your cousin as well, with my letter. If Turukáno does not listen to you, Idril will likely at least consider the wisdom of doubting both you and I.” Celebrimbor leaned against a tree, looking at him. 

“Finduilas and you have both recounted for me your stories about the folly in thinking any of us can or could control our uncles, or that it is my fault. I know,” Maeglin said. 

“You do not.” Finduilas dropped a pile of something - chestnuts, he thought, but perhaps some other food as well - on the ground and then stepped forward. “Or you know, but you do not believe us.” 

“But you will one day,” Celebrimbor said. 

It was easy to believe them, Finduilas with her scars as she laughed during the day and whispered to them at night of her fears that she would not be rescued until Celebrimbor had freed her and they had ran in the wake of Nargothrond’s fall, and Celebrimbor, whose scars were less visible, but who constantly bit his tongue when speaking of his uncles and father. Maeglin had not expected to find anyone who would understand the pain of having family. 

Nor had he expected both of them to disregard the rumors of Morgoth’s control, Finduilas with a mutter about a Gwindor Maeglin did not recall hearing of before this, and Celebrimbor with a hollow laugh about whatever fell deeds his uncle had committed, all had been Maedhros’ choice and not Morgoth’s. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by Finduilas wrapping her arms around him. “What thoughts are you lost in now?” 

“How unexpected all of this is,” he said, pushing down the arguments he still wished to have about how they should not have welcomed him so easily. 

Celebrimbor laughed then. “It is, is it not? And perhaps in different ways for all of us, for surely no one in Valinor those centuries ago would have expected me to fall for one of both Fingolfin and Finarfin’s descendants.”

“Or for you to come back through the woods in time to save me, and to make our home in just the right spot for Maeglin to stumble through.” Finduilas smiled, hugging Maeglin closer. “I am so very glad we did, however. It would not have ended well if you returned to Gondolin, from all you have said.” 

“It still may not.” Maeglin looked in Gondolin’s direction, though it was far enough away he could not see any sign of it. 

“That is not your fault. Morgoth already knew, from all you have said,” Finduilas said. 

“Perhaps.” 

Celebrimbor shook his head. “We will not convince him of this tonight, Finduilas. Let us make supper instead, and at least feed ourselves.” 

Supper too was different here than he had expected. Food in Gondolin had always either been the opulent settings at Turgon’s table, or quick scraps of food Maeglin grabbed on his way to the forge. 

Celebrimbor insisted on cooking most days, if he was not busy with a project, and also insisted on teaching both Maeglin and Finduilas. Often he included stories of how he had learned to make this or that food. 

“I had this the first time on a camping trip with your mother, actually,” Celebrimbor said as he pulled some sort of roasted fish from the fire. “And your uncle, Finduilas, though I am still unsure as to why Finrod was on the trip. Luckily he was, as neither Aredhel nor my father and uncle were good at fishing and the hunt went poorly for them.” 

It was strange as always to hear stories of his mother with the sons of Fëanor, after years in Gondolin where such was not spoken of. “Mother was no better at fishing in my youth. She made me do such.”

“Are you good at it?” Finduilas asked. 

Maeglin thought for a moment, and then shrugged. “It reminds me of waiting for a piece to cool before I can do more work on it. It is not my favorite, but the wait does not frustrate me the way it does some.” 

“Then you can help Celebrimbor with it tomorrow,” Finduilas said. 

“So long as my help is wished for.” Maeglin looked over at Celebrimbor, only to see him smile.

“Of course. We can discuss our work at the same time, so that Finduilas can be spared at least some of the smith talk.” 

“You say that as though I have ever not listened to either of you speak of what you were crafting.” 

At first Maeglin thought they were arguing, and then blinked when Celebrimbor laughed again and Finduilas smiled. 

“Nay, love, but I know you care not for how exactly a blade is forged so long as it is.”

“Nay, I do not - but come, Maeglin, don’t look so. We should have remembered you have not heard this argument all the way from Nargothrond.” Finduilas’ hand was on his shoulder then, and Celebrimbor’s hand on his Maeglin’s wrist. 

“My apologies,” Maeglin said. 

“There is no need,” Celebrimbor said. “This is new, and it will take time.” 

Time that he had now, and had not expected to reclaim after Morgoth. He kept that thought in mind through dessert, and as Celebrimbor and Finduilas grasped his hands and pulled him towards bed, and even as they laid down on either side of him. 

As Maeglin fell asleep, he thought of the last lines of the letter he had sent his uncle. 

_Even if I judged it safe to return, I would not. I was rescued by two elves that you know of, and I have fallen in love with them. I am sorry, Uncle, but I shall not forsake them for anything, including the customs of our people. Tyelpe and Finduilas deserve better._

_If Gondolin is abandoned, I shall meet with you again. I dare not hope you will love them as you love Tuor for Idril’s sake, but I hope you will find yourself willing to escape doom and meet them once for mine._

Perhaps that would be enough to convince his uncle to leave. 


End file.
